Pirate

“What happened to that poor kitten’s right eye?” I wondered, as I watched a black one-eyed kitten play with his orange sibling. They were new arrivals at the shelter, and as I soon found out, the black kitten had been plagued with upper respiratory infections at an early age, resulting in the loss of his eye. It didn’t seem to bother him though; he was perfectly happy, playing with his marmalade sister.

Barbie and Ken were the names given to these kitties. I almost think that they were given those names to facilitate their adoption, especially Ken’s. My heart went out to him from the start; after all, he had two strikes against him: he was missing an eye, and he was black. Who would want him? Who, indeed….

I watched Ken over the next several days; because of his plight, he’d immediately become special to me. It wasn’t long before his perfect two-eyed sibling was adopted, leaving him in a smaller cage all alone. That was more than I could bear to see, and at that point I knew that he was going home with me.

I had only been working at the shelter for 2 weeks, so one can imagine the objections that I fielded at home. Yet, this was different, not only because of Ken’s physical limitations, but because I just knew that we were meant to be. So, I made it official and took Ken home. I renamed him Pirate and set him up in a safe room. At that time, he was #6 in my brood.

I kept Pirate separated until he had his last set of vaccinations and was neutered (he was about 5 months old when I adopted him). I would spend time with him every morning before I went to work, just holding him and letting him know that he was loved. During that time we bonded, and after awhile, I couldn’t remember what my life had been like without him.

The first time Pirate mixed with the rest of my cats was by accident: I’d left the door to his room unlatched and he went downstairs to explore. I heard Trouble hissing, and then saw Pirate calmly drinking out of a water dish. “Guess you can hold your own as part of the herd.” I thought to myself, and left him out to mingle from that day on.

Over time, Pirate blended in well, bringing his own unique personality to the group. He’d chase the other cats, compete with Wiggles for a spot on my lap, and sleep on my pillow at night. It took Pirate some time to learn how to jump up onto countertops, because his one eye was crossed, but he adjusted well. I also noticed that he would tap the water with his paw before drinking, because he had limited depth perception. All these things that would normally be perceived as handicaps were part of Pirate’s charm, as far as I was concerned. And none of them seemed to bother or hinder him in the least.

It was almost 2 years later. I had left the shelter to go work for a vet and had to attend a veterinary convention one weekend. Pirate didn’t seem to be eating well, and was losing weight. I also noticed that he’d been spending a lot of time in the basement….“I’ll take him in to work when I get back,” I thought to myself; “perhaps he’s just upset by my getting ready to leave; he’s a young cat-surely it’s something simple.”

If only that were the case.. Unfortunately, when animals are sick, their survival instincts dictate that they mask their illness. Domestication has not altered this, so often we don’t pick up on illnesses until they are pretty far along…

Blood work at the clinic revealed elevated kidney values, but also an elevated globulin level, which was alarming to the vet. She suspected FIP (feline infectious peritonitis), so we sent in a titer test. FIP is a deadly virus that manifests itself in two forms: wet and dry. Once symptoms appear, cats who have the first form don’t live much past a week if that, because their respiratory systems are affected. Cats with the second form (dry) can live longer, but only a couple months, due to organ failure. There is no definitive test, other than a necropsy, so usually a diagnosis is made based on symptoms and lab work. Pirate’s FIP titer came back high, indicating likelihood that he had FIP and that his kidney failure was a result of that. I was devastated. Not only was I faced with the reality of losing my beloved Pirate, but all off my other cats had been exposed. Fortunately, FIP is not as highly contagious as some other viruses, so I chose not to worry about the latter. Instead, I concentrated on treating Pirate for his kidney failure, while attempting to maintain his quality of life in the process, knowing what the end result would be.
A few weeks later, I knew it was time. I took Pirate into the emergency clinic, where I would later end up working.. He passed quietly, in my arms, and I was reminded of when I first saw him after his sister was adopted: quiet, unassuming and testing the waters in the new world he thrust into. Things have a way of coming full circle, and I knew that he was doing the same thing in heaven, but perhaps with both eyes.
Healing takes time and when we lose a companion animal, it is always a difficult decision as to whether or when we are ready to open our hearts to another lost soul (I often think that we are really the ones who are the lost souls). I think that often in times of extreme pain, the decision is taken out of our hands and made for us….
A couple months after Pirate crossed over the Rainbow Bridge, I went to the shelter to help out with their adopt-a-thon. I saw two brown and white tabby kittens named Sinbad and Pirate. The kitten named Pirate was missing his right eye. My former co-workers told me that they had named this kitten Pirate, in honor of my little guy. They had no idea of what had transpired, and with a heavy heart, I told them.
The shelter staff wanted to keep “Pirate’ and Sinbad together, and I’d actually considered adopting them both. I wasn’t ready for another cat, but for some reason, I felt a connection to the little one-eyed brown and white tabby, who was my beloved friend’s namesake. And if he was going to be a package deal, that was fine with me.
A week or so later, I came back to the shelter, only to find that Sinbad was spoken for by one of the kennel staff. A strong bond and sense of Deja Vue gave me an indication as to the change that was about to take place in my house hold….
After much deliberation on names, I decided to call my new adoptee Uno. I brought him home after he was neutered, and gradually introduced him to the rest of my herd. In many ways, he was like Pirate; bold, instigating, and a lap cat. But unlike Pirate, Uno had no trouble seeing, as his remaining eye was not crossed. He was also going to be much bigger…
I remember wondering what really compelled me to adopt this kitty so soon after Pirate died. I didn’t feel ready, so why did I feel such a strong bond with this kitten? As I looked over Uno’s paperwork, I found my answer: he had been brought the shelter on the same day that Pirate died.

Ellen M. White
January 28, 2007